Magic – Episode 1
The airplane took off with an ear-shattering roar.
This was Haroon's first flight ever.
His father's sorrowful face kept flashing before his eyes—the face of a man who had, albeit unwillingly, allowed Haroon to go to New York to stay with his elder brother Asad, only after losing to Haroon's persistent insistence.
What else could the poor man do?
Haroon was his younger, beloved son—who always used his charm and affection to get his way.
Haroon's father ran a clothing business, a family trade that he valued deeply.
He had a large shop in the city and two sons—Asad, the elder, and Haroon, the younger.
Asad was always academically inclined, so his father had sent him to another city for higher education.
Haroon, however, was not interested in studies. After completing his BBA, he quit studying altogether.
Because of his carefree attitude, Haroon couldn't stick to one job or task for long.
He was quite handsome himself and was therefore attracted only to beautiful things.
In childhood, he loved butterflies.
Whenever he saw a colorful butterfly fluttering over the garden flowers, he would run after it and always catch it.
Even then, he would gently hold its delicate wings, afraid that its vibrant colors might rub off on his fingers, and would trap it in a glass jar.
"Haroon, you're so cruel!"
Bali, the girl next door, once saw his jar filled with butterflies and spoke with a mix of wonder and disapproval.
"How can you imprison these innocent creatures? Don't you feel any mercy?
God will surely have a butterfly trap you one day the same way you trap them!"
Haroon would laugh at her innocent remarks and tease her,
"Judgment Day is far away—I wish a butterfly would trap me right now!"
Bali would storm off, fuming and glaring at him.
Whenever Haroon was not home, she would sneak into his room and open all the jars, setting the butterflies free.
Bali was the only daughter of a newly moved-in family next door.
That house had been vacant for years, and Haroon's mother, Kulsoom, used to pray that kind neighbors would move in.
Her prayers seemed to work when Akram Sahib—a kind and educated man—bought the house. He was also a businessman.
Kulsoom was delighted with her new neighbors.
She became good friends with Bali's mother, Razia.
They exchanged food often and built a warm friendship.
Bali also often came over to visit Kulsoom.
Haroon had tried to befriend her too—
Firstly, because they were the same age;
Secondly, she was beautiful (and Haroon had always been a beauty admirer);
And thirdly, because she too loved butterflies.
She would wander through her garden, searching for them, and Haroon would often observe her from his rooftop while flying kites.
The first time Haroon learned about her interest in butterflies, he proudly invited her to his room to show his jars—
But instead of being impressed, she was furious.
One morning, Haroon woke up late and found the jar lid open—all the butterflies were gone.
Fuming, he went to his mother.
"Mom! That crazy girl Bali must've come into my room again!" he said over breakfast.
"Why do you say that about her? She's such a sweet and innocent girl," Kulsoom replied while serving food.
"She's sweet, yes—but a little abnormal too. Please don't let her enter my room anymore," Haroon snapped.
"Alright, alright, I'll talk to her," Kulsoom said with a laugh.
When Bali heard this, she was deeply hurt and completely stopped speaking to Haroon.
Despite his efforts, he couldn't regain her friendship.
She would wrinkle her little nose and turn away every time she saw him.
Eventually, Haroon gave up—thinking she was arrogant.
Still, he liked her. And perhaps Bali knew it too.
But she was just as stubborn as him and kept turning her face away whenever he appeared.
Time passed, and they entered adulthood.
After Asad finished his education, he got a job in a New York firm.
Haroon started helping his father with the shop.
With Asad now abroad, their financial condition improved.
He even sent money from a company loan to expand the family business.
Slowly, their name became one of the most prominent in their community.
Asad would call Haroon every night to chat and check in.
One night, he called with hesitation.
"Haroon, I need to tell you something…"
"Yes, what is it? Is everything okay?" Haroon asked, concerned.
"Promise me you won't tell Mom and Dad."
"Man, what have you done? Tell me!"
"Promise first," Asad insisted.
"I can't keep it in—I know only you can help me."
"Okay fine, now spill it."
"I… I married an American girl here."
Haroon was shocked.
"You what? Did you tell Dad?"
"No, that's why I'm panicking. They listen to you more than me.
Please, help me explain it to them," Asad pleaded.
"Don't worry—I'll handle it," Haroon reassured him and hung up.
He suddenly found himself envying his brother's fortune.
He'd always seen Asad as the quiet, studious type.
But Asad had quietly escaped and fulfilled his dreams—marrying a beautiful girl in New York.
And here he was, living a dull, mundane life.
Haroon grew restless.
He lost interest in the family business.
He became tired of the shop, the house—everything.
"What's wrong, son? You look troubled," his father asked one day at the shop.
"Nothing, Papa. I just didn't sleep well," Haroon replied.
"Go home and rest. I'll handle the shop," his father said, handing him the car keys.
Haroon roamed the streets aimlessly. That night, Asad called again.
"Dad says you've been distant lately. Are you okay? Don't tell me it's about a girl!" Asad teased.
"No girl. Just tired of this boring old business. I want to do something new," Haroon replied boldly.
He didn't realize his father was standing at the door, overhearing everything—shocked, staring at his son in disbelief.
"I'm sorry, Papa…" Haroon mumbled, looking away.
"If you're tired of working with me, I won't force you.
But you're not a child anymore. What do you want to do?"
"I want to go abroad," Haroon declared.
His father looked at him in surprise.
To be continued...
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